


Taking Risks

by Elayna



Series: The Risks series [1]
Category: White House Down (2013)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elayna/pseuds/Elayna
Summary: James Sawyer finds his interest dwelling on the man who saved his life.  John Cale learns that there are still consequences from the events of That Day.





	Taking Risks

"Let's do the thing," Carol said to the pilot, and James forced himself to smile, like all was right and fine. He was still President of the United States of America, and would stay calm and collected, even though a day spent being shot at, nearly drowned, almost blown up, and narrowly avoiding the start of World War III had left him shaky, an excessive amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He took slow, even breaths, calming his body, forcing himself to relax in the helicopter seat. 

Across from James, John Cale and his daughter, Emily, were looking out the window, both of them admiring the statute of Lincoln as the helicopter cruised over the Capitol Mall. "I'll have to appoint a new vice president, and we'll need to organize a state funeral for Alvin," James told Carol, keeping up the pretense that his mind was wholly occupied with the next tasks to be done and not the events of the insane day. Moving on, nothing to see here, certainly not a president on the verge of freaking out. 

"I doubt they'll be able to recover his body but I assume you'll want a closed coffin memorial with world leaders invited?" At James' nod, she continued speaking. "I'll be ready to coordinate arrangements with DHS." 

James wondered if Carol was faking it as well. She hadn't been physically threatened, but she'd spent what must have been a stressful day trying to defeat a terroristic attack on the White House, coordinating with the various branches of the military and the National Guard, and yet minutes after it was all over, seemed perfectly comfortable taking on new security challenges.

"It'll take time to get all the repairs made to the White House and have it up and running," Carol added. "There will be thorough checks on all the workers." 

"I want to be back in as soon as possible," James said, "even if I have to live elsewhere. I need to be at the Oval Office." 

"Yes, Mr. President. I'll coordinate on all the security aspects," Carol promised. 

Throughout their exchange, James kept his eyes on John Cale. They'd spent hours together, running and fighting, with occasional calm moments of being able to talk and strategize, but now James took the opportunity to appreciate John's fine figure. He was grimy, his face and sleeveless t-shirt smudged with soot from the explosion, and bruises were likely to form on his pale skin soon, courtesy of the punches and kicks he'd traded with the bad guys. The dirt and disarray only emphasized his muscular figure, the strength of his arms, the firmness of his chest muscles covered by soft, white cotton. 

John's face was as attractive as his body, though his ears stuck out a bit, and his short haircut could have been unflattering on someone with a less perfect skull. 

"This is so amazing. I want to thank you so much for bringing me along," Emily burbled, all schoolgirl enthusiasm and polite manners. 

"Thank your daddy. I'd be dead if it wasn't for him." As soon as the words were out, James winced slightly. Had that been too blunt? Could one be too blunt to a young woman who had spent the day being held hostage by terrorists? Who had had a gun held to her head? James would have to speak to John later in private, make sure that he and his ex watched Emily for signs of PTSD and got her counseling if needed. 

Emily didn't seem disturbed by the bluntness, leaning into her Dad as much as the seatbelt allowed and giving him a one-armed hug. "You're an American hero, Daddy." 

John ruffled her hair affectionately, talking to James. "I was John this morning, now I'm Daddy." He beamed with pleasure, like that was all that mattered, that being shot at, almost drowned, and nearly blown up was inconsequential if it meant his little girl called him Daddy. 

Both of them could have been killed today, and John wasn't even supposed to be James' protection. James had in fact told John not to lie to his kid about getting a job with the Secret Service. Not being responsible hadn't stopped John. He'd stepped in without hesitation, shooting bad guys, savagely hitting them with lamps and other available objects when he'd run out of bullets, putting his very fine body between his president and the bad guys. John could easily have taken a bullet for James. That was always a risk the Secret Service took, but no one had yet done so for James, and he'd never dreamed that anyone might do so multiple times in one day. 

"Mr. President?" Carol tapped him lightly on the hand with a piece of Nicorette gum. "You need this?"

James took it gratefully, aware that he was shaking a bit and had fallen silent. "Not that I smoke," he said, as he always did, before unwrapping the gum and shoving it in his mouth. 

"Where are we going?" John asked, looking at Carol.

"The secure location that's the President's back-up residence if the White House is compromised. You wouldn't have ever heard where it is. The location is classified." 

"I've got a lot to learn," John said, his expression determined to fix his ignorance. 

"Yes." Carol gave a sideways look at James, implicitly seeking confirmation. "But first a lot of paperwork to fill out to join the Secret Service." 

"Backdate his start date to this morning and get him hazard pay, if you can," James ordered, confirming Carol's silent question, yes, this guy is really your bodyguard now? And definitely he was. James wasn't going anywhere without John for the rest of his presidency. 

James wasn't actually sure if the Secret Service got hazard pay, but he knew Carol would arrange it if she could, and Carol usually managed to arrange anything he wanted. Sometimes it was most excellent to be president, to suggest something and know it would be carried out. At least by staffers; it would really be great to be president if Congress and foreign leaders took his suggestions with such immediate attention. 

"Yes, Mr. President," Carol answered, even as John protested, "I don't want to cause problems. I know hiring always takes time."

"You started working for me today, John. Shut up and take the pay." 

"Yes, Mr. President," John replied dutifully, as Emily made an incoherent noise of delight. James wasn't sure if it was her ongoing enthusiasm for his presidency, or amusement at hearing her father being told to shut up. Maybe both. 

"I'll have Emily flown back after we land. And is there anyone who can pack a bag for you? We may be offsite for a couple of days."

"My ex," John answered Carol. "She's got a key to my place. I'll text her." He took out his cell phone, typing away. 

James could feel the nicotine slowly oozing through his system, calming his nerves. He knew he needed to fully kick this habit, but for now, he appreciated the chemical assistance helping his muscles to unwind as he watched John's bent head over his phone. Maybe his insistence on having John as his bodyguard was unwise. Did he really want someone so attractive and dedicated standing next to him every day, all day? Was that taking a stupid risk, being around him constantly? 

If it was, James knew it was a risk he had to take. John had saved his life, and without him around, James wasn't sure if he would ever feel safe again. 

~~~

"So what's really bothering you?" 

James turned away from the window he'd been staring out, loosening his tie. "My house, possibly the most famous house in the world, was almost destroyed, and multiple people tried to kill me, even a man I regarded as a friend, and you think something else is bothering me?" he deflected. 

Alison shook her head, smiling. "Baby, I know you. Something else is going on." 

Exhaling a long breath, James internally conceded defeat. They'd begun dating in college, married soon afterwards, and had shared both happy times and painful frustrations. She did know him. "John Cale." 

"That is one fine man. I was sorry that Carol found him a jacket to cover up those arms." The rest of the day had been spent at the secure location, Carol and his other assistants going over all the details of getting the country back up and running and his presidency securely established again, while too many Secret Service guys hovered and John sat in a chair by himself, filling out personnel forms on a tablet. 

Sitting on the bed, James kicked off his shoes while Alison started her own undressing, looking in the mirror over the vanity to remove her jewelry. "Carol likes people to look professional." 

"So what about John Cale?" 

"He saved my life today. Several times." 

"That's his job, right?" 

"It wasn't at the start of the day." 

"He may not have been Secret Service, but he was still with the Capitol Police, right?" 

"But…" James couldn't figure out what to say, because he didn't quite understand it himself. "He saved my life," he repeated. "Several times." 

Alison gave a little sigh, pushing on James's shoulders, encouraging him to lay back on the bed. She worked on unbuttoning his shirt. "He saved your life, even though no one expected it of him. And he's really fine." 

"Yes, okay?" James knew his tone was irritated. "He's really fine." 

"Baby." She kicked off her shoes before settling on his hips, pushing aside his shirt, running her hands over his chest. "I know what you gave up to be where you are, remember? You were in danger and he just whooshed in," she gave a little snap of her fingers, "and saved your life, and he's really fine, and you have not touched a man since we got married." 

"Since I started thinking about asking you to marry me," James corrected her. "Before we got engaged." 

"This life we lead, it's crazy. You're in a bubble every day. And today was this crazy action day and you didn't even get to kiss the man for saving you." 

"I am not a damsel in distress."

"No, baby. You're the President of the United States. The first black President of the United States." 

They had undressed each other so many times, they didn't even need to speak to coordinate. James partially sat up to pull her dress up her body, as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. "You are fine," he said, running his hands over her breasts, down to cup her waist. 

She caressed his chest in return. "So are you." 

Sliding his arms around her waist, he rolled them so he was on top, kissing her, finding her lips warm and willing, as always. "Then it's good two such fine people found each other." 

Her fingers brushed down the side of his face. "Baby, do you want him to be one of your five?" 

"My what? No, no, of course not," he said quickly, realizing what she meant. It was a joke that they'd even picked the five people they could cheat with, one of those stupid things they'd giggled about one night, curled up in bed, too tired from a long day of politicking and making nice to near strangers to fall asleep yet. "Besides, he would be a really stupid choice." 

"And there you go, thinking about it, which means you want to do it." 

"I think about a lot of things," James protested, but she was right. He wanted John on that list, his special list of the five people he considered most desirable in the world, next to Alison. "It's not like we're going to meet any of the others." 

"We're President and First Lady, of course we might. You could give any of them a medal. I think Denzel deserves the Kennedy Center Honors." 

"But John - John's going to be right by my side, every day." 

Her look was steady. 

"You'd really be okay with that?" 

"I know what you go through, the bullshit you deal with. You deserve a break now and then." Her hands caressed up and down his arms. "It would be risky, but anyone who would take the risks he took today seems like he would be loyal enough to keep his mouth shut."

"I don't even know if he likes men."

"You may not know until you ask him. Most people don't share that kind of information, especially at work."

James still hesitated. He spent a lot of time around his Secret Service guys, and he always made a point of talking to them, but the difference between 'wasn't that a great game last night?' and 'have you sucked cock?' was pretty vast.

"It's just a list, baby. You don't have to put him on it, and even if you did, you wouldn't have to do anything about it. He could just be… someone you think about. But if you put him on the list, you'd have to take someone off, don't think you wouldn't." 

Yes, it was just a list, but it also was apparently permission to cheat, a more substantial permission than James had realized. And with John Cale by his side, every day, all day, it shouldn't be too hard to arrange. If John wanted it. James certainly did. "If something like that got out, it could bring down my whole presidency."

Alison rolled her eyes slightly. "They make up lies about us all the time. Just insist it's a lie. And it wouldn't get out if John's loyal." 

"He's the most loyal man I've met." Strangely, he was, even though he hadn't voted for James, and had in fact left him at one point, when he thought James was safe and hidden. Only then had he gone to rescue his daughter. The rest of the time, John had stayed by James' side, faithful and deadly. What had James done to deserve that dedication? 

"So... you should think about putting him on the list." 

"I'll let you know," he said, kissing her passionately, unsnapping her bra, ready to end this discussion. He already knew it wasn't a matter of if he'd put John on the list, but how soon. 

~~~

"Do we have to have the fight again tonight?" James asked, raising his hands in a mock boxing stance.

"Nope." John smiled as he loosened his tie. "I surrender. I'll even ask, what's my IPA tonight?"

"Figured that out, have you?"

"Mel says I'm not the most observant guy, but that's been kinda hard to miss."

John was prowling around the hotel room, doing his normal check of everything, like a miniature assassin might be hiding behind one of the suite's plush chairs, before flopping down on the couch and putting his feet on the coffee table and giving James a cheeky grin. "There, sir? See me, being all agreeable."

James grinned back. He had thought being president was a busy, complicated job, but it was even more stressful adding on all the fallout from the attack on the White House and the success of his peace plan. They'd done a lot of traveling since the day they'd met, James insisting that John always be at his side. James knew that he was suffering somewhat from PTSD, and the only comfort in strange locations was John's reassuring presence. Carol and John seemed to understand, making sure John was around in both the mornings and evenings and always for transitions between cars, planes, hotels, meeting rooms, and speaking venues. When his commitments were finally over each night, James had badgered John to drop his insistence on alertness and hang out with him like a friend. It had taken time, but he'd finally broken through John's attempts to always stay professional. 

"Brotherly Love Ale," James read from the bottle. Two bottles of local IPA were always in the suite's refrigerator, a standing order that he'd asked Chris to arrange, once he learned IPAs were John's favorite drink. And no more than two. One was John's limit when he was on duty, but James sometimes managed to coax him into a second. He found he liked coaxing John into letting down his security persona and relaxing. "That's - "

John laughed. "Is that supposed to be appropriate for the location or for the gay customers?"

"Both?" James suggested, handing the bottle to John, who uncapped it with his hand. Sometimes James wondered if that was a strange bit of showing off for him, 'look how tough even my hands are.' Funny thing was, it worked. The attraction that had grown as John kept saving his life that day had never waned. James wanted to know the strength of those hands on his body. What would they feel like, gripping his hips as John blew him? 

John took a long swig, James watching as his head tilted back and the long line of his neck bobbed with his swallow. James quickly sat down on the couch by John, busying himself with the TV remote as John lowered his beer bottle. "Good?"

"Yeah, real good."

The TV clicked onto a news program rehashing the attack on the White House.

"Jeez, why are they bringing this up again?" John asked.

James gave him a sideways glance. John had never seemed very interested in rehashing that day, spurning a multitude of interview requests. When absolutely cornered, he downplayed his saving the president in favor of admiring James' peace efforts or Emily's bravery that day. If he wasn't so constantly good-natured and professional about his efforts at avoidance, the press corps would probably hate him. "I'm in town, local news has to cover the most monumental day of my presidency. Did you watch my speech today?"

"No, I had to catch a catnap. You saw Hernandez there, right?"

John was always complimentary of his fellow Secret Service agents, and subtly made sure James knew who would be there when he wasn't. Hernandez was a big mo-... dude, built like a brick wall with a mean right hook. James guessed that the abbreviated 'm' sound would have been something that other John, John McClane, was fond of saying, if James hadn't been POTUS.

 

He wouldn't mind if John swore in front of him. Every time he pulled back, went formal, threw in a Mr. President, it felt like John was withholding himself, not being his true self. James recognized that it was appropriate, the professional thing, and gave John the same courtesy back, but he was beginning to hate the distance. 

"Yeah, I saw him."

"Your speeches are always great." John almost stumbled over the words, as if he felt the need to reassure James that he would have liked to listen to him.

"I'm not insulted," James said easily. Political speeches were a common part of his life, but even he found them dull sometimes. "I know I ask a lot of you."

"Nothing that I mind doing." He waved the beer bottle. "It's no hardship to drink your beer, sir."

"And get up before me and go to bed after me and check every damn thing to make sure nothing dangerous can get close to me."

"It's the job, sir. I like the job."

Was it just the job? James hoped it was loyalty to him personally as much as the office he held. "You can call me James when we're alone."

John's grin was decidedly mischievous. "Yes, sir."

"Ass," James said, and it seemed somehow appropriate to place his hand on John's strong thigh and give the hard muscle a squeeze. He left his hand there, resting on the fine wool blend of John's black suit. Why did they all have to wear black? John looked better in gray. On the TV screen, the camera zoomed onto John, the first time he'd followed James into the helicopter, still in his grimy undershirt, bruised and blackened by fighting the mercenaries.

'The acknowledged hero of the day was John Cale, a member of the Capitol Police who was off duty but threw himself into protecting the president, the White House, and the hostages who were being held by the mercenaries, including his own daughter, Emily.'

The screen cycled through various clips of John as the announcer spoke: John in his suit, looking tense as he escorted James to a speech, smiling as he hugged Emily in what he must have thought was a private moment.

"Oh god," John moaned, leaning forward to rest his head against the hand holding the beer bottle. James noticed that he didn't move so abruptly that his hand was dislodged. "I thought they were done with this stuff."

"Wait until the first year anniversary."

"They should stick to you. You were the one Walker wanted."

'Cale is considered one of Washington's most desirable bachelors, but shows no sign of dating. His attention is solely focused on POTUS.' The video switched to a montage of John standing just behind or to the side of James in several different locations.

"Really? I'm a desirable bachelor in DC?"

"You didn't know?"

"I'm just a security guy with a failed marriage. I'm not a politician or a high-paid lobbyist. Those are the guys who are eligible bachelors in DC."

"Secret Service is a bit more than rent-a-cop. And you're - " James waved his free hand at John.

John looked baffled. "What?"

"Hot." James cursed himself as the word emerged, but John only appeared pleased.

"You think so?"

Well, at least he hadn't said 'sir.' "Yes, I do."

Could someone that hot really be oblivious to his own attractiveness? John's smile was shy, and his eyes lowered for a second before he protested, "My ears stick out. Mel always said so."

Yes, someone that hot could apparently be that oblivious, and Melanie Cale was either a nitwit or had thought she was teasing. "You're one of my five," James admitted in a rush.

"Your five?"

"You know, the five people that Alison gives me permission to have sex with, if I ever have the chance."

John's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his green eyes disbelieving as they focused on James. "That five."

"Yes, that five."

"And Alison knows?"

"Of course. She gave me permission the night we met."

"Wow." John looked completely blown away by James' admission, before his expression shifted into something quite different. James had never seen John's eyes look so admiring in such a 'hey, you're hot, let's have sex' way. John's voice was deeper than normal when he spoke again. "You've never tried to pick me up."

"I thought you were straight."

John set his beer bottle on the glass coffee table and in one smooth motion, twisted and put one arm behind James' head, covered his lips with his own, and cupped the front of James' pants with his other hand. His kiss was passionate, his tongue in James' mouth, coaxing a response as he massaged James' dick. James felt himself harden.

"I'm flexible," John admitted, when he released James' lips.

"The kiss and the hand on my dick kinda told me that. Would you - do you - " James couldn't quite make himself say 'can I fuck you?'

John kissed him again, sucking on James' tongue with a seductive intensity that James could imagine on his dick. "Whatever you want, James."

"I don't want to take advantage."

"I want you to take advantage." He nipped at James' ear, his lips close as he whispered, "I'd really like you to fuck me, sir. Oh..." He gave James' dick a firm squeeze. "I think little James likes that idea."

"Little James?"

"What, you don't call it that?" He gave another caressing squeeze. "Big James? Jimmy?"

James decided it was time to take a few liberties himself. John's length felt good in his hand, responding eagerly to James' massaging. "Little John? That sounds too much like Robin Hood."

"Johnny. I mostly just think Johnny when I'm mad at my dick for getting me in trouble."

"Does your dick get you in a lot of trouble?"

"Mostly it's my mouth."

James ran his thumb over John's full bottom lip. "I really like your mouth."

John sucked James' thumb into his mouth, making James' dick harden even more. His eyes fixed on John's pretty lips closed on his thumb, James said, "You know that's not the part of my anatomy I want you to suck."

John's eyes slowly closed, like he needed to block out everything but the taste and feel of James' thumb in his mouth. He gave it several hard, drawing sucks before releasing it and standing, offering James a hand. "Come on, we need to move into the bedroom and shut the door."

Taking John's hand, James stood, their bodies so close that the fabrics of their clothes touched. "It's that simple?" 

"Sure, why not?" 

Why not indeed? James had hoped for this night, but had never expected it to happen so easily, without any kind of lengthy discussion. He was a bit thrown. "You've had sex with a man?" Nothing John had ever said previously indicated he might have; James didn't want him pretending to be flexible out of a sense of duty. 

"Men, not just one man, and yes. I did three tours in Afghanistan. Sometimes you had to break the tension." John jerked his head toward the bedroom door. "Come on, we need at least one more door between us and the guys in the hallway." 

"Is that what you're thinking about, my security?" Was this still motivated by duty? 

"I always think about your security, and I'd be doing a poor job if I let one of the guys see something they shouldn't. But right now, I'm mostly thinking about your dick in my ass."

For that, James had to pull him in, wrap his hands around his waist and hold him tight, kiss him hard and reach back to squeeze that gorgeous ass. John responded for a few seconds, then broke away and pushed him toward the bedroom. "Seriously, I can't mess up my clothes."

They stumbled into the bedroom, John stripping his clothes off and placing them neatly on the dresser. James moved slower, distracted by watching John. His body was as attractive as James had guessed, the rest of him matching the power of his muscled arms, his smooth skin almost polished looking.

As James pushed his pants down his hips, John dropped to his knees in front of him, curling one hand around his dick, giving the head a teasing lick. "Is this what you want?"

"I wouldn't mind you having a taste, but I believe my dick in your ass was mentioned."

"Let's get you hard."

"That won't take much," James admitted. Just the sight of a bare naked John so easily, so willingly going to his knees was almost enough. John's obvious enjoyment, licking and sucking at his dick, had him full and ready in no time at all. Yes, John was definitely experienced at blow jobs. 

"You got lube?"

"No, there should be something in the bathroom," James said, finishing undressing. 

"I'll see what's there," John said, striding to the bathroom, and rummaging. "This'll work," he continued, coming back out. "You want me to take care of it?"

The thought of John stretching himself for James' dick was appealing, but James shook his head. "No, I want to do it." He wanted to know the sensation of John's ass clenching on both his fingers and his dick. 

"Okay." John tossed back the blankets and stretched out on the bed, giving James' dick an assessing look. "Three fingers at least."

Though he hadn't had sex with a guy for a long time, the technique came back to James quickly, helped by John's responsiveness. "You like this?"

"Yeah. Haven't done it that much."

"Not on those tours in Afghanistan?" James asked, adding another finger.

"Some but not often. Too much risk of being caught. Mostly hand jobs." John's words were abrupt, like he was too distracted to speak coherently.

 

Still stretching John, James licked at his nipples, and nuzzled his chest. John's chest was gorgeous, hairless with well-defined muscles.

John rested his hands on James' shoulders, sliding down his arms. "Is this okay? If I touch you?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" 

"Guys in the military, it's about getting off. Touching's gay."

"And gay's bad?"

John's laugh was a touch bitter. "Yeah, gay's bad. Soldiers aren't big champions of gay rights."

 

"You know I am. I'd love you to touch me."

"Good." John took that permission and ran with it, stroking James' arms, over his chest, playing with his nipples. Then James must have managed to hit that spot, because John's eyes went hazy, and he rested his arms to each side of his head, focused only on his hips grinding down on James' fingers. 

"Good. That's really good. That's gotta be enough, sir, right?" 

Sir sounded exactly right at this moment. James pulled his fingers out, slicking lotion over his dick, and breeched John's opening. There was resistance, but John's thighs squeezed James' hips, encouraging him. James kissed John, wetly, thrusting in small increments until his dick was fully in John's hole.

John's hands curled around the back of James' head. "Good, sir, really good."

Yeah, sir was a definite kink right now. James kissed John again, harder, his hips falling easily into the rhythm of thrusting and retreating. John's hole clung to his dick, a delicious sensation of warmth and pressure. John's lips broke away from James, his head falling back onto the pillow, moaning in pleasure and incoherent gasps. 

"You're gorgeous," James told John, snapping his hips forcefully, pounding John into the bed. His brain went a little crazy and wild, like he could impress on John's body all the fury and fear he'd felt that day, and his gratitude and relief that John had been there to save him.

"Sir, James, fuck, fuck me, hard," John moaned before spilling between their bodies, his muscles contracting on James' dick. James fought against the sensation, thrusting again and again, as if physical motion alone could make John understand how much he meant to James. His body finally surrendered, his come shooting into John's hole, before he slumped onto John's solid body, letting him absorb James' weight. John hugged him, always there for him. 

Moving off John took some time to manage, but James finally rolled to the side, instantly regretting it when John got up from the bed, checking his watch. 

"You're leaving?"

"I'd better check in," John said, as he went into the bathroom. James heard water running before John came out, holding a wet washcloth. He wiped the come off James' skin, giving him a gentle kiss and returning the washcloth to the bathroom. 

"This has to be a one-time thing," James said, not knowing if he wanted to reassure John that he wouldn't keep pestering him, or if he wanted John to disagree with him. 

John nodded as he dressed rapidly. "I know, sir."

"John - "

Pausing in the midst of knotting his tie, John looked at James. "Sir?"

"Thank you." That wasn't what he wanted to say. He wanted to say 'stay the night,' but that was impossible. 

"My pleasure, sir. You don't have to worry about me. I'll never say anything to anyone." 

"I know you, John. I know you've always got my back."

With a nod, John left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

 

~~~

Wow.

John stared at himself in the mirror over the end table which held an elaborate arrangement of flowers, one of those elegant touches so common in the rooms where the President stayed. He looked fine, clean, put together, perhaps a little tiredness around the eyes, so common to all Secret Service agents who shared the President's exhausting schedule.

There was no sign that he'd just had smoking hot sex with the leader of the free world, that he'd begged to be fucked harder by the presidential dick.

That had been ... unbelievably stupid, really fucking unbelievably stupid, undoubtedly the stupidest move John had ever done, even more bone-headed than signing up for those second and third tours in Afghanistan.

John loved his daughter and his job, and he'd endangered both of them. If it ever came out that the supposedly heterosexual first black president had sex with a white male who worked for him, James' presidency would be royally screwed. No one would care about past dick sucking by a female intern.

Emily would never, ever forgive him if he was the cause of bringing down her hero, even if she had first latched onto Sawyer as the man who could bring her Daddy home.

He could have taken James' reference to the list of five as a joke, laughed it off and been flattered, ignored the hand on his thigh, talked for a few more minutes, and departed to check in. James would never have made the first pass. The man was too conscious of concepts like power differentials. No, John had to be the one. He'd been offered his chance at something he'd never thought he could have, and he'd grabbed it. Grabbed James' dick, loving the feel of that heavy length in the palm of his hand.

John always had the unfortunate tendency to go with his gut, and his gut said... what the fuck, really? That being that close to James, to kiss him, breathe his scent, touch his skin, feel himself stretched by James' fingers and his dick... these were experiences that John needed to know.

Really, gut, what the fuck? he asked his gut, which unfortunately felt as satiated and heavy-limbed as the rest of his body and did not feel guilty at all.

Did he even need to feel guilty? After all, James had said his wife approved, so they were two consenting adults. Any possible scandal would never happen, never matter, because John's lips would stay firmly closed. No one saw or knew anything and never would. Emily would never look at him with disappointment in her big soulful eyes.

And John would have the memory of one night, of being as physically close as it was possible to be, to the man he respected and admired more than anyone else in this world. The memory of this night was his alone to treasure forever.

~~~

James woke up the next morning feeling well rested and energized. He stretched his arms and legs, appreciating the softness of the sheets and the relaxed feel of his body after a mind-blowing orgasm. 

When James emerged from the bedroom, John was already waiting, standing by the wall by the door to the suite. Coffee and James' favorite Danish were on the coffee table, while Chris, his top political aide, sat on the couch. Chris was sometimes mistaken as a Secret Service guy, with his dark suits and close-cropped blond hair, but his ties were always based on modern art masterpieces, not subdued like John's. Today's was clearly a Pollock.

"Chris, John."

"Mr. President, you've got a breakfast meeting in half an hour with the local party reps. I sent some speaking points to your phone yesterday."

"I saw them." James sat down on the couch, taking a sip of the coffee and a bite of Danish. "Thanks," he said, with a wave of the pastry in Chris' direction.

"John brought that. He thought you might wake up hungry."

James glanced over at John, who remained standing. He looked the same as always, professional, neat, blending into the background, like he was a statue propped by the wall.

"It looked like they kept you talking a lot last night, Mr. President."

"I did wake up hungry, thank you. What's after breakfast?" he asked, switching back to Chris, who immediately launched into an overview of his day's schedule, complete with notes on the most important people he would meet and issues to remember. 

Later on, as they went to leave the room, Chris leading the way, James took the opportunity to brush his fingers against John's. "Thank you. Again."

John's face softened from his professional detached mask, warmth and affection in his eyes. "It's always a pleasure, Mr. President."

James nodded and followed Chris, and that was that. He was president and John was his loyal bodyguard. Last night was a memory to be cherished but never repeated. 

~~~

Working in the Secret Service, protecting the president every day, was exhausting, stressful, and to John's surprise, the dream job he never knew he wanted. Much of the time felt like being back in the army, waiting and waiting for those sheer moments of terror and exhilaration.

The long hours left him drained, his steps slow as he walked up the stairs to the second floor of his apartment building and started down the hallway to his place. Part of him wanted nothing more than a beer, his couch, and maybe a game on the TV, but his mind ran through his exercise options. Lots of standing around left him exhausted but didn't work his muscles, and he needed to be at peak performance to do his job well. A quick jog, or should he head down to the small weight room in the basement?

Or maybe he should just sprawl in his bed and jack off to the memory of James fucking him and picture all the other ways he'd like them to have sex, a pastime that was becoming all too familiar and one of the best ways to relieve the stress of his job. 

A young blond woman was standing at the door to Mrs. Shaw's apartment, a laundry basket in one arm, her free hand patting her pockets, as she muttered to herself.

"You okay?" John asked, pausing by his door. He couldn't help but notice that she was very pretty, reminding him that his love life was beyond pathetic these days. He needed to date more and stop thinking about one night with his boss. He definitely needed to have sex with someone other than his right hand and his imagination.

"I'm so silly, I think I locked myself out," she said, walking closer.

"Are you Mrs. Shaw's granddaughter?"

"You must be the famous neighbor. I've heard about you."

Mrs. Shaw brought John cookies occasionally and seemed thrilled to have a member of the Secret Service in the building, as if his very presence would deter crime. She loved to ramble, and adored her granddaughter, who was ... what had she said? "You're not twelve," John said, cursing himself even as he reached toward his gun. Mrs. Shaw thought her granddaughter would be a good playmate for Emily. He was a second too slow, the points of the taser held under the laundry basket hitting him low on the chest. Electricity coursed through his body as he spasmed, before falling to the ground, landing on his back.

His last thought before he lost consciousness was a hope that Carol wouldn't assume he was a flake when he didn't show for work tomorrow.

~~~~~

Life as President of the United States meant long, tiring days, but incredibly satisfying ones. James stretched, yawning, staring out at the newly refurbished lawn, mentally reviewing today's events, mostly meetings, and thinking about tomorrow. His phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket, surprised to see Emily's face on the screen. He remembered the day he'd invited Emily to visit him at the Oval Office, just a few weeks after the day of the attack. The White House was barely functioning, but damnit, James would work from his office. He'd taken her picture and put her number in his phone, and she'd been so thrilled, bubbling like a tweener going to the mall. He still felt guilty that he hadn't immediately opened the nuclear football when Walker had threatened Emily's life, and was grateful that neither she nor John seemed to hold it against him.

His gut instantly clenched with fear and worry. Though Emily was clearly proud to know him, she didn't just call. No matter how many times James insisted it was fine for her to stay in touch, she texted John and he checked if it was okay for her to call. "Emily?"

"My Dad's been kidnapped! Mom said I should call you. She's talking to Director Finnerty."

Fuck, could it be any more horrible? Who would kidnap John and why? "How do you know?"

"I have video from his apartment building. It was earlier tonight, right as he was getting home."

"Can you send me the video? Don't upload it, send it to me directly."

"Yes, Mom's saying the same thing. She's getting the director's email address."

"Good, send it to us both. I'm going to send a car to get the two of you and bring you here." There wasn't any reason to assume that Melanie and Emily were at risk, especially if the kidnapping was related to John's role as a Secret Service agent, but John would want them safe.

"We'll be ready."

"Emily? We're going to get him back. I promise you."

He heard a muffled sob, and his heart twisted with worry. She'd seemed to deal with that day astonishingly well for such a young girl, but James knew that like him, she suffered from PTSD and nightmares. Her Dad had been her main source of comfort and now he was gone, at risk himself. "I promise you," he repeated, even though he knew it was stupid, don't make promises that you can't be sure you'll keep, especially not to kids, but he had to believe they would. John had been his main source of comfort too. He and Emily couldn't keep going without him.

~~~

 

James stood by the window, staring out into the darkness as they waited. Alison was a silent presence beside him. Carol was sitting on the couch, reviewing data on a tablet, sending rapid emails. They'd all watched the video Emily had sent, had seen John tased by a woman in the hallway outside his apartment, seen him collapse. Watched the two guys appear out of hiding and lift John off the ground, hold him between them like he was a drunk friend, and drag him out of the frame. James didn't have to say how much John's being hurt and kidnapped upset him; Alison knew. 

The door opened, Melanie and Emily walking in, and James immediately walked toward them. With a sob, Emily flung herself into his open arms. James lifted her, hugging her. "It's okay, Emily, we're going to do everything we can to get your dad back safe and sound."

Emily's voice was very small. "Even on that day, he didn't look like that. He was fighting on that day. But tonight he just collapsed and laid on the floor."

"I know, Emily. We've watched it. It was a sneak attack, the worst kind, but the best people in this country are already working on it."

"Emily." Carol looked calm but professional. "Thank you so much for sending that footage. We're running those people through facial recognition. You helped us immensely."

"Thank you, Director Finnerty." 

"Please, call me Carol. How did you happen to get that footage?" 

"She put a camera on her father's apartment," Mel said, clearly embarrassed. 

"Mom, I'm sure they don't care what my therapist suggested I do to feel I have control over my environment. Dad's been kidnapped."

James hugged Emily, appreciative that her sneak surveillance had a beneficial impact. Otherwise, they may not have realized that anything was wrong until the next morning when John failed to show for work. "Why is not the issue, but - " he looked to Carol, signaling that this was her show to run. 

"If everyone can sit down for a few minutes, I'd like to ask some questions."

"Of course, anything we can do to help," Melanie said, and everyone settled on the couches. Emily leaned into James's side, and he kept one arm draped over her small shoulders. Alison sat on his other side, her hand slipping into his, squeezing. Melanie looked momentarily disconcerted, but sat down next to Carol. 

"The camera, you've hidden it?" Carol asked Emily.

"It's small and in one of the hallway lights. I never told Dad. I just like to check before I go to bed, to watch him get home." 

"So you've also hacked into his wi-fi to get the data transmitted. No," Carol waved that question away. "That's not relevant at the moment. The point is, no one realized that the attack was recorded. They left, thinking they were safe from discovery, and that they have all night before anyone realizes John is gone. This works in our favor. The main question is, was this an attack on John for personal reasons, or on him because of his status as a Secret Service agent? Does John have any enemies? Does anyone have a reason to hurt him?" Carol looked at John's ex, as if she would be better able to evaluate John's personal life than his daughter. 

"John? No, of course not. He's always been a really good person. Even when we were fighting and divorcing, I still would have said he was a good person. He tends to get along with people," Mel answered.

"So he's never mentioned anyone with a grudge?"

"No. I mean," Melanie gave a helpless shrug. "He mentioned occasionally fighting with some of the guys in his unit in the army, but I always thought that was blowing off steam more than anything. He's stayed in touch with a lot of them. We usually only talk about Emily now, not his work. I have asked him how he likes his job, and he always says it's great."

"And his personal life? Anyone he's dating, fights with the neighbors?"

"He's not dating anyone now," James inserted, wondering if that was true. They did talk regularly, but it wasn't like they had endless time to shoot the breeze. John could easily have chosen not to discuss any romance with his boss and one-time lover. How much of John's life did he not share? "At least, he hasn't mentioned anyone. He was dating one of Alvin's assistants who was killed on Air Force One."

"Dad's really focused on his job," Emily added. "Sometimes the other guys - "

"You mean other members of the Secret Service?" Carol prompted as Emily stopped talking.

"Emily." James half-hugged her with the arm still draped over her shoulders. "You say anything that might be important, anything at all. No one will be mad at you. You don't have to worry about telling secrets, not now."

"Sometimes the other guys give Dad a hard time, you know, because he saved the president and the president always wants him close. But Dad said it wasn't any big deal, that they know he does a good job, people are always rough on the new guy."

James kept his expression neutral, and Carol's face went carefully blank, but they would revisit this issue together, later on. If John's co-workers had been creating a hostile work environment, they would be disciplined. John would hate that; clearly if he'd wanted James to stand up for him, he would have mentioned the problem. Tough. James wasn't going to be the most powerful person in the free world and let his best friend be abused because of jealousy.

 

"I really appreciate you being honest with us, Emily. I don't know what's happened between John and the other members of the Secret Service, but frankly, this would be better handled if it was any of his current co-workers."

"That wasn't well handled?" Melanie asked, disbelief on her face.

"His apartment has the advantage that his defenses were down, but anyone in the Service would have thought to check for cameras. Many people do have them in apartment buildings these days, though most don't tend to hide them. That diminishes the deterrent value." 

James wondered if it would be better if John had been kidnapped for personal or work reasons. Could it be for ransom? No one in John's family had a lot of money, not as far as James knew, but someone might assume that the Secret Service would pay. In which case, they would be keeping John in good shape. If it was work, if it was a precursor to another attack on the White House, they might be hurting John in an effort to get cooperation. 

Please let it be ransom. If it came down to it, James would pay. 

~~~

Being tased hurt, and waking up didn't make it much better, especially with being tied up in a garage. John took stock of his situation, his arms bound behind him, the sturdiness of the wooden chair, the garage mostly empty but with a scattering of stuff in it, a few garden tools hanging from hooks on one side, paint buckets in a corner.

"Hey, sleeping beauty's awake!" someone called.

John craned his neck. His chair was facing the front garage door, while the person who spoke was standing in the door to the house, directing his words to someone inside. John didn't recognize the guy, who was white, in his 30s, and could have fit in with the group that had attacked the White House, John realized with a chill in his gut.

"Good." Another guy brushed past him and they both came to stand by John. "I was getting tired of waiting."

He'd been attacked in his apartment building and moved here, which looked to be a house in a residential neighborhood. The blonde couldn't have moved him by herself; these guys must have been waiting. John tried to remain calm. Who the hell would want to attack him? He was nobody. Unless it was the start of a plan against James... "What is this about?"

"Lady wants to talk to you."

"We were talking. She could have invited me in for coffee."

"Different lady. She'll be here soon."

They left abruptly, apparently not interested in talking with their captive. Hired muscle then. John licked dry lips and wondered if the blonde was around. Sexist possibly, to hope that she was, that a woman would be less likely to allow him to be hurt, when they'd said that a woman had arranged for his capture, but John would grasp at straws.

With nothing to do but wait, John twisted his hand enough that he could feel his back pocket. His wallet was there, so if he got free, he had money and a credit card. His phone was gone from his jacket pocket though, so no calling anyone.

Should he yell? The effort would be pointless if he was in a neighborhood where the houses were set far apart, but this was a single car garage, which meant a greater possibility that the houses were close together.

He opened his mouth, gathering breath to scream as loudly as he could, knowing that the guys would run out and gag him quickly, when the door to the house opened. Shutting his mouth, he twisted in the chair.

It took only a second to place the woman walking in. Muriel Walker. Fuck. He'd never actually seen her in person, though she'd been covered extensively on the news, and there had even been discussion of prosecuting her for aiding and abetting treason. James had intervened. because James' heart was too damned big for John's own good.

Even Carol had thought prosecution a bad idea, that it might make the president look vengeful at a time when he was trying to broker peace all over the world. She was an old woman, what had she really done except say a few sentences?

James had looked at John, standing silently in his normal waiting place against the wall, and waited for a moment, giving John a chance to offer a comment. John had finally shrugged. He'd been in the Army and was now in protection; determining appropriate levels of justice wasn't his role. She'd lost her kid and her husband and was receiving anonymous hate mail and death threats, perhaps that was enough.

Perhaps John should have opened his big mouth and said he thought that she should pay for her actions. Words had consequences.

"Mr. Cale. I imagine you know why you're here."

"Mrs. Walker. I would guess you're not happy that I killed your husband."

Big mouth, damn big mouth. Didn't speak when you should have, couldn't stay quiet now.

"Quite accurate, Mr. Cale."

One of the thugs brought out a chair and set it down. Muriel sat on it, her hands clasped loosely in her lap. She looked exactly like she had in all the news reports, an older woman with the polished elegance that came from having plenty of money for beauty treatments and designer clothes, and sad eyes.

"I loved my husband very much."

"Then perhaps you should have encouraged him to stop committing treason."

"We both loved our son even more than we loved each other."

John could understand that sentiment. He'd loved Emily from the first second that the nurse had put her in his arms, her tiny body and unfocused eyes. Taking a breath, he tried to regroup. Fighting with this woman was a lost cause. And no matter what, don't mention Emily, he thought. Don't make her think that hurting Em would be the best way to hurt John. "I understand you've suffered losses, Mrs. Walker," just like all the families of the people that Walker had killed, seriously, fuck Walker, John hated that dude, "but this won't bring back your husband and son. This will put you in prison. Neither of them would want you to suffer. Look, just let me go. Let me go now, untie me and open that door, and I'll walk out and won't tell anyone about this. I promise."

"Do you think I care about prison? What do I have to live for?"

"Prison's a nasty place. You do not want to go there."

The guy who had brought out the chair stepped forward and punched John. The blow landed on the right side of his face and made his head snap back. He'd certainly taken harder in his life, but never with his hands tied and unable to respond. "She's not going to go there because no one's going to know what happened to you."

The clear indication that they were going to kill him and hide his body sent a chill through John. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave Emily and James. Emily would have Melanie and James would have Alison and Carol and an entire team of Secret Service guys, but they wouldn't have John, and they both needed him. He had to escape or be rescued, and no one would be looking for him until tomorrow morning. 

He was screwed, and he was alone. 

~~~

The door opened, and a Secret Service agent leaned in, looking at Carol. "We have an identification on one."

"What do you have?" Carol asked, staying on the couch, letting him know he could talk freely. James was glad that she wasn't trying to keep him out of the investigation, because he could not stay on the sidelines, not with John's life at stake. 

"He's a felon, recently paroled, mostly minor assault charges, domestic battery. And he's Muriel Walker's nephew."

Carol breathed a sigh. "There's the connection, revenge."

Damn the Walkers, both of them. He should have let Muriel be charged with treason, or at least have left the call up to the DOJ. But no, he'd had to feel some sympathy for her, and loyalty to Walker's many years of service. This time was all her, and she was going to pay. 

"We've started searching, looking for any places that either she or the nephew might be connected to."

"Good. I doubt she's at home, but send a unit to check it out. Let me know as soon as you find any possibilities," Carol ordered.

"They had rental properties." James squeezed his hand into a fist. "Several, and in the DC area. If one of them is vacant - "

"It would be ideal to hold a kidnap victim."

"Property records for both Walker and his wife, we're on it." The agent disappeared again. 

"This is good, right?" Emily's voice was still small, but hopeful. James hugged her. 

"This is very good," Carol answered. "She wants revenge, and she thinks she's got all night. She won't be in any rush. She might hurt him," she said cautiously, looking at Emily with a very serious expression in her eyes. "But your dad's a very strong man, one of the strongest I know. We know who to look for and where to look, and we've got the best people in the world looking." 

"We're going to find him, and we're going to get him back," James added. There wasn't any other option.

~~~

He might die here, and wouldn't that be ironic? To survive three tours in Afghanistan and an attack on the White House, to die at the hands of an old woman and a couple of thugs in a suburban garage. To not see his daughter mature into a young woman, to miss the rest of James' presidency…Seriously, fuck all the Walkers, Martin, Muriel, and Eddie. Or whatever Eddie was, he hadn't exactly introduced himself, but John was pretty sure he came from Muriel's side of the family, not Martin's. Hell, fuck even the other dude, who had never reappeared, presumably waiting in the house until he was needed for body disposal.

John's head rolled with the next blow. The first few hits hadn't hurt that much, Muriel's asshole nephew had less of a punch than most of John's army buddies. John had taken worse from just blowing off steam with a good brawl, but then the asshole had added a set of brass knuckles, and alternated his blows over John's face and torso. John was feeling it now and had been for some time. His skin had been broken on his forehead, blood slowly trickling down one side of his face, and he could taste blood in his mouth from a split lip. 

"That's enough."

"Sure, Aunt Muriel." The guy stopped, backing away from John. 

Muriel had a gun in her lap. John couldn't see it well, it looked small, a nice little ladies gun. Maybe Walker had bought it for her, protection when he worked late nights. "I think you've suffered enough, Mr. Cale."

"This will not bring your husband back."

"Nothing will. But you shot him multiple times. I read all the results of the investigation that were published. I read your recital of how you drove a Jeep into the Oval Office and killed him without mercy. They wouldn't even let me see his body, did you know that? They said I didn't want to remember him like that. I wanted you to feel the pain he felt."

"I don't have a tumor in my brain, and I've never lost a son to war. I'm never going to know the pain he felt, Mrs. Walker. Never. This is a lost cause. Your nephew is a young man. Do you want him to rot in prison for the rest of his life? Premeditated first degree murder, kidnapping, assault, they're going to throw the book at him." 

"Only if they identify him. There's nothing to connect us to your disappearance. And his charge wouldn't be murder." Her pale hands caressed the gun. "That would be mine."

Was there any point in trying to get through to this woman? She was clearly irrational. John didn't know how long he'd been out, or how long it had taken to move him, but it might only be around midnight. No one would even know he was gone yet. He had to change her mind or at least delay, delay, delay. Pretend he was back on the verge of divorce with Mel, arguing the same old shit over and over again, how hard could that be? "Your husband was trying to kill people, millions and millions of people. Even if I'd been able to arrest him, he'd have died in prison before he was tried for mass murder and treason."

"We could have talked at least. He would have known he'd succeeded in setting this country on the right path. He would have known that our son's death wasn't in vain."

Hypotheticals were ridiculous, but John was willing to indulge in any conversation that delayed more punches or his own death. "You're assuming that I would have arrested him after the missiles had fired. I might have arrested him and stopped the missiles, and then he'd sit in prison, knowing that the entire effort had been wasted, that he'd failed. He was dying, Mrs. Walker. He had a fast death instead of slow, lingering pain." 

Her eyes burned with anger. "Do you think I should thank you for that?"

"No, I know you're not going to thank me. I know you loved him and miss him and you loved and miss your son. You have my sympathy." No, she really didn't, John had moved beyond sympathy for this woman at least a dozen blows ago, but he hoped he was faking it well. Pain and the threat of death was a good incentive to control his tongue. "But this will not bring them back. This will only cause more pain. Would your son want his cousin going to prison for life?" He felt like he was banging his head against a brick wall, which was perhaps appropriate, since his head certainly hurt like it had collided with a very hard substance. 

"I'm tired of this, Mr. Cale." She raised the pistol, holding it securely in two hands. Her hands shook a little, but someone had taught her well. Walker probably took her to a shooting range, made sure the little woman could protect herself with the gun he'd bought her. Her finger curled around the trigger. She was really going to just sit there and shoot him, with a small caliber weapon. She'd probably miss and have to shoot him again. He was not going to die a messy death at the hands of an old woman and leave James and Emily alone. John threw his weight forward onto his feet and, still bound to the chair, began as best as he could to run straight at her, even as the nephew was reaching down to grab the gun from her hand. He collided with both of them, hitting Muriel squarely with the nephew's arm trapped between them, and all three of them went sprawling on the concrete floor. There was a skittering noise, hopefully the gun flying far away. In desperation, John threw his body back and forth, trying to break the chair.

The side door exploded inwards, followed by the rapid entrance of several black-clad figures with SWAT prominent on their chests. There were multiple yells of "Freeze!" 

John began laughing in hysteria and obeyed. Bless SWAT and whoever had noticed he was gone. Bless them. 

~~~

 

Alison had opted to stay behind at the White House, but James and the others were met at the hospital and escorted to a room upstairs. "For security, we've separated him from the other emergency patients," the nurse said nervously. He was wearing pink Hello, Kitty hospital scrubs and undoubtedly had not expected to be drafted into escorting the President and his entourage that night. 

"How is he?" James asked. 

"He'd been beaten pretty severely, and looks bad, but I understand his condition is stable."

Stable. Stable. Such a beautiful word.

The escort shot a glance at Emily, walking behind him with Melanie. Two of his Secret Service agents followed the group.

James kept his voice low. "She needs to see him. She's a tough kid. We've prepared her."

And then they were all pushing into a hospital room, and John looked like shit, a wound in his forehead closed with neat stitches, bruises beginning to show, but he was sitting up, wearing a hospital gown, and totally gorgeous. Emily brushing past James and giving a squeal as she threw herself into her Dad's arms was probably fortunate or James might have done something unpresidential.

"Dad, Dad."

"Emily."

John was squeezing Emily, his head resting on top of hers, but angled so he could see James. "Believe me, I am so glad to see you. I was so glad to see the SWAT guys. You are all beautiful. But how?"

"Dad, I'm so sorry, I know it's an invasion of your privacy, but it's just been nice to know that you've gotten home in the evening, and it worked out, didn't it?"

John looked perplexed but smiling, happy to be rescued. "Wait, what?"

James wrapped a hand around John's bicep, needing a physical touch for reassurance. "She'd put a security camera in your apartment hallway and filmed the attack."

"Please don't be mad at me," she said quietly. "Only I was always worried about you and my therapist said, well, couldn't I track you? I only put one in the hallway, behind the light fixture. There's nothing in your apartment."

"Yeah, your therapist's nice but he's old. He didn't have a clue what he was suggesting and you knew that." John leaned forward to grab her and lift her up bodily, sitting her in his lap. He hugged her, keeping her in the circle of his arms. "It's okay, you did good. No kidding, you saved my life."

"As long as she isn't hacking Secret Service communications," Carol said drily, making James conscious of their audience, that he was still standing right next to John and holding onto his arm.

"You should - " he gestured between Melanie and John, reluctantly stepping away a few steps. She seemed to understand the unspoken 'get in and hug your ex,' as she came forward and put her arms around both Emily and John, giving them a brief squeeze before stepping back.

"I'm glad you're okay, John."

"Oh, believe me, me too."

"Emily, we should go home now. It's a school night."

Emily was clearly going to object, but John squeezed her tightly. "Listen to your mom, okay? You got plans on Saturday? Maybe we could do something, a movie or go somewhere, anywhere you want." John spoke to Emily but now his eyes were on Melanie, seeking approval. James didn't know what the custody arrangement was, but Melanie seemed to have primary custodial responsibility. 

"That would be great, John. You and Emily should spend as much time together this weekend as you want."

"Maybe you two could even spend time together after school tomorrow, since he's going to be off work. Doctor, he'll be discharged tonight, won't he?" Carol inserted. "This morning," she corrected.

"We want to run a few more tests but yes, it does appear we'll be discharging Mr. Cale in a few hours."

Emily tightened her arms around John. "Just - "

"Hey." John squeezed her back. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm fine."

"You looked hurt. You just laid there, and now your face - "

"This?" John gave a gentle laugh. "This just looks bad. I've had worse. I'll be fine in a couple of days."

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely. Em." John stroked her hair. "Look, I know I've messed up sometimes with you, but I am not lying to you. I'll take it easy a few days, I'll be fine."

"If you say so," Emily said, clearly wanting to believe him but hesitant. 

"I say so. And now I really do want you to go home with your mom. You have school in a couple of hours. You should get some sleep."

"I love you Daddy."

"I love you too, Em."

Melanie tucked an arm around Emily's waist. "Text me when you wake up," she told John before they left the room.

"Carol, everyone, if I could have a moment alone with John?" James asked, with that tone where it wasn't a question. 

"Mr. President." Carol gave him a curious look but left with the others. James flipped the lock on the door behind them and advanced on John, who held out an arm as he got close.

"Blinds." John said, gesturing with his head toward the window. 

James gave a sigh but conceded to John's paranoia, shutting the blinds before returning to him. 

"Carol's going to be - "

James slid his hands into John's hair, cradling his head in his hands, and kissed him, slow and hungry, trying to express his relief at John's safety. 

"She'll wonder what you need to say to me that she can't hear," John said in a rush.

"Then she's already wondering, and it's too late," James answered. John's lip was bleeding slightly from where it had been cut. James licked at the red drop before kissing him again. Despite his apparent protestations, John responded to the kiss, opening his mouth and welcoming James' tongue. James broke the kiss, resting his forehead against John's, breathing deeply. The smell of blood, John's blood, was frightening. "Do not scare me like that ever again."

"I'm going to give that my best shot. That was… really not fun."

"This time Muriel is going to pay."

"No argument from me." John cupped James' chin, tilted their heads together for another long kiss, before their lips separated reluctantly. "I thought of you, you and Em. I couldn't get killed and leave you two."

"I need you," James admitted softly. It was a relief to say the words, even if unnerving and scary to admit his own reliance on another person. He needed to be able to look around at any moment and see John, patiently waiting. The fear that John might have been taken away from him forever brought that realization acutely to the forefront of his mind. 

"I know. I need you too. Protecting you, being there for you, it gives me purpose."

James just took several long breaths, absorbing how much John meant to him, how much he needed the other man by his side, grateful that John wanted to be there too.

"You should go, you need your sleep too," John added. 

James wanted to argue with him, to stay at the hospital until John was released, but he knew his presence would be more disruptive than helpful. He slid his hands over John's freckled shoulders, down his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles, admiring how good he looked even in the loose hospital gown patterned with tiny flowers. John hadn't been lying. He was a strong man, who'd had a lot of experience fighting and being hit. He would recover and be back at James' side soon. "Text me when you get home and when you wake up."

"Aren't your texts public records?"

Did the man never stop looking out for him? "Just… home. Awake. Out with Em. Give me that."

"Fuck, I can't. They took my phone."

"I'll get Carol to have one dropped by with my number programmed in."

"Yes, Mr. President," John said as James stepped away, both of them rebuilding their professional facades.

~~~

A separate car had already left with Melanie and Emily, leaving James and Carol in the presidential limo, returning to the White House. One of the ever present Secret Service agents had stayed at the hospital to escort John home while another sat up front with the chauffeur.

James stared moodily out of the window. This late in the night, traffic was fairly light, and they were making good time. 

"Sir, may I ask you something?" Carol pressed the button that raised the privacy glass between the front and back seats.

"Of course."

"Is there anything I should know about your relationship with John?"

After giving Carol permission to ask, James found himself prevaricating before answering. "Why do you ask?"

"You two seemed very close."

"He saved my life."

"Yes, sir. And he saved the hostages and stopped Walker starting World War III. I don't deny his importance. But as his boss, I'm concerned that I should understand more about your relationship with him, that there may be… something inappropriate about it."

James sighed, and thought about how to respond, seriously contemplating lying. He'd always known he'd have to lie, but he hadn't expected to deal with this question, not so soon after worrying about John and accepting how important the other man was to him. 

"Sir, it would be better for me to understand what's happened. I can't protect you if I don't know the truth." 

Perhaps it was best to tell Carol. She wasn't a judgmental person, and could let him know if he'd given too much away. Had Melanie picked up anything? "Am I so obvious?"

"Not to most people, no. But I know both of you better than the average person. I knew John when he was in college and I've been very close to you for your entire presidency."

"We had sex, just once. I don't expect it to happen again. And I find - " James took a deep, calming breath. "I'm just more comfortable when he's around, especially when I have to go out into crowds. I've talked about all of this with Alison, but I'm not comfortable with going to a therapist."

"It's good that you can share with Alison. I think John and I have both realized that you want him around, though we've never discussed it."

"I've noticed he's there a lot. I hope I'm not over working him. I don't want him to suffer for my fears."

"John's a strong man. He's not doing anything he doesn't want to do. He's usually suggesting the split shifts before I make assignments."

"Good." For the first time, James turned away from the window and looked at her. "Do you think that makes me weak?"

"I think you suffered incredible trauma and can't take the time to heal, that you put the needs of the country before your own. Whatever you need to keep going, I will help arrange."

"Thank you. Can you do a threat assessment for him? I don't want a repeat of tonight. John killed a lot of people that day, people who have family and friends who know more about hurting others than Muriel and her nephew."

Carol looked contemplative. "It might cause awkwardness to evaluate just the threats against John, but I can certainly use tonight as a reason to evaluate everyone who might bear a grudge because of that day. You killed at least one person too, and that was identified during the investigation. The next person might come after you in retaliation."

"Good, that's a good way to handle it."

"It's an oversight that I didn't think of it before."

"Even if you had, who would have expected that of Muriel?"

It was Carol's turn to sigh. "I still can't believe these are the people who used to invite me for Thanksgiving. We shall check absolutely everyone, Mr. President. This won't happen again."

"I'll hold you to that," James said. 

~~~

Waking up in his own bed at least hurt a little less than waking up in Walker's garage, but not much. John's body was stiff and sore, his muscles protesting the ill treatment of being beaten. He didn't even have a morning hard-on, his dick totally limp. Jacking off to the feel of James' big hands cradling his skull, his lips covering John's, would have been a good way to start the day. He hadn't expected the president to just reach out and kiss him so intensely, with such yearning and relief. The moment was one he would always cherish, even if what it had taken to get there had so truly sucked. 

With a groan, John rolled out of bed, staggering into his living room wearing only the T-shirt and boxers that he'd slept in. Hernandez was sitting at the small table in his breakfast nook, reading something on his phone. "What are you doing here?"

"You don't remember that the president wanted someone to stay with you?" Hernandez shrugged when John just looked confused. "They'd given you a shot of happy meds for the pain. You were kinda out of it at that point."

"I don't need a babysitter." 

Hernandez shrugged again. "Easier to sit here than stand at attention all day. There's coffee and these, I bet you need one." He waved two pill bottles at John, who grabbed them, poured a cup of black coffee, and swallowed two of the less powerful ones. He wasn't risking addiction. 

"You got some texts." Hernandez pushed his phone toward him. 

"They found it? I figured those assholes had thrown it away."

"Nah, they'd turned it off but it was in that rental."

"Thanks." James slumped down in the other chair, ignoring Hernandez. He knew the other man wouldn't mind. He wasn't here as a guest and everyone in the Secret Service was well accustomed to waiting. He texted James first, 'awake,' as promised, then read Emily's, an exuberant text with many emojis, checking in before she went to school. Her mom had promised she could come home early if she needed to, but she wanted to last the whole day if she could. Phones were banned during classes but hopefully she could check in at lunch and they could schedule afterwards. Something calm, because John didn't expect to be moving quickly. Mel's was strange, a brief 'thought you should know' and a link to an article.

The article was short but the grainy pictures spoke for themselves, John sitting on an examining table, then holding his arm out to James, before James was shown shutting the blinds. At least the photographer hadn't been able to record James kissing him. Fuck the paparazzi and whoever had alerted them that the Secret Service was investigating a late night kidnapping of one of their own. 

"Have you heard from Finnerty?" he asked.

"Not yet. I texted her you were up when I heard you moving. I'm waiting to hear if she wants me to go in or stay with you."

"You can go in, I'm fine." After deliberation, he texted James a link to the article, wondering if it was going viral and Chris had already compiled it in his daily report. He didn't include a message. 

Hernandez didn't move, but John hadn't really expected him to just stand up and leave. John's reassurance would mean less to him than Carol's instructions. "I think she was worried that the nephew had friends who might come after you. That blonde woman got away."

John snorted. "That dude? No way. He was amateur hour. That blonde would probably do anything for twenty bucks. And none of Muriel's friends are going to defend her. All those rich people understand Walker was a crazy asshole and a goddamn traitor."

"Her nephew worked you over pretty well."

"I was tied up," John said, maybe a bit defensively. He'd gone against stronger guys, including Stentz. That guy wouldn't have been able to touch him if he hadn't been tasered and bound. He'd have to be more alert from now on. 

The phone rang, James calling. John turned away from Hernandez, answering. "Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore, but I'll be okay. Hernandez is here."

"Good, I wanted you watched. Chris had sent me that link. You were right to be cautious."

"Yeah, wish I wasn't." John kept his voice low but was aware Hernandez had to be listening. John's apartment wasn't that big. DC was an expensive place to live, and John wasn't home much anyway. Even if he could have afforded it on his Secret Service salary, much better than Capitol Police, he'd never seen a need for a lot of space.

"It'll be okay. Chris is on it."

"Okay, let me know if I can do anything." As if he hadn't already done enough, being captured by douchebags. 

James' voice was soft and warm. "You can take care of yourself and rest. I want you back soon."

"I will." John had to bite his lip not to respond with a 'Yes, sir.' That would definitely have let Hernandez know that the President called him personally. 

~~~

John was back to work within two days. The doctor wrote him a note that he could stay off for a week, but he didn't give it to Carol. What she didn't know, she couldn't enforce. 

James gave him a hearty clasp on his shoulder when he walked in, and a sincere, "It's good to see you back," but Bailey was already there with his schedule, so John only responded with, "It's good to be back," and moved to stand by the door. Neither of them acknowledged that John had already texted that he was on his way. 

It was unfortunate that Sawyer was having one of his busier days, not just working in his office but traveling around DC, seeing people and talking to groups. Every new location meant journalists yelling questions, all of whom seemed far less interested in Muriel's attack on John and her arrest than those damn pictures and what the President's desire for privacy meant. 

James brushed off the questions, giving non-answers like he didn't even understand the interest. John put on his sunglasses, made his face impassive, and arranged to be one of the agents farthest away from the President. Surely more interesting subjects would come up soon, diverting the attention of the press. 

News was regrettably slow, like no one was doing anything vital, and the questions continued. John tried to apologize, but James sighed and told him to shut up. 

The last straw came as they arrived back at the White House. A group of journalists clustered around, waiting for the President, but directing some of their questions at John. "What does your daughter Emily think about your relationship with the President?"

"My daughter - "

"John." James stepped toward John, dropping his voice. "You should stay out of this."

"Stay out of this? Pardon me, Mr. President, but I'm right in the middle of this. My daughter," he said louder, "admires President Sawyer as much as I do. He is a great man, trying to benefit not just America but the entire world. I fought in Afghanistan, three tours. Believe me, I understand the stress that fighting in a war places on our military and their families. And the damage done to the country and its people where we're fighting.

"I recognize the importance of the press, believe me I do, but I wish you would get off those damn photos, and onto more important issues. And stay off of me, entirely. I'm just a guy trying to do my job and I do it much better when you're not distracting me.

"And look, I accept that my daughter wants to be one of you, that she's made herself a public person with her blog, but could you try to remember, she's still just a 12-year-old girl?"

Someone called out, "What happened after the blinds went down?" 

"You want to know? Seriously, is there nothing more important?" The journalists had their attention fully riveted on John and weren't letting go, not now that they'd managed to crack through his facade. "Look here." He stepped closer to James and put his arms around him, pulling him a fierce hug. Cameras clicked like crazy, those huge cameras with the long lenses. John made sure his face was toward the press. They'd only capture the back of James' head. "He hugged me, okay? We hugged, because I work for him and he's the Commander-In-Chief but we're also friends. Maybe it's not a macho thing to do but sometimes when people almost get killed, you need to hug them.

"Mr. President, can we go inside now?"

"Lead the way, John. That's all," he said dismissively to the journalists before following John into the White House. 

"I'm sorry," John said in a quiet voice as they walked into the building. "They were driving me crazy."

James rested a hand on John's shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "It's okay, John. We'll talk later."

Later came sooner than John expected, when Chris walked in at the end of the day, the person John had been most dreading. John knew James wanted to stay President for another term, both to ensure the long-term success of his peace efforts, and for all the domestic causes he wanted to advance. This was pretty much what it all came down to, wasn't it? How was the public reacting to John's outburst? What had it cost James? Was John's presence at James' side causing a distraction to his Presidency? 

"Chris," the President stood and they shook hands, before moving to the couch. "What's the update?"

"Good, good. Social media is exploding in all the best ways. I've told you before, John's an asset, an American hero."

John hated that designation. It had been thrown around a lot after the attack, like no one seemed to understand he'd only been doing what he'd had to do, to protect his daughter. He'd never thought about it much in connection to his current job. Now he was just a suit, a guy who made sure James was safe while doing the important work running the country. 

"And he's - " Chris looked embarrassed, but James waved his hand in a 'never mind, be honest' gesture. "He's white. People are eating up his overt support of you, for both your political work and you as a person. We should have him do testimonials for you as much as we can."

"Carol would have a problem with that. The Secret Service is supposed to be apolitical."

"I - " John started speaking and stopped, aware that he hadn't been invited to participate in the conversation. James usually sent him out of the room when Chris arrived, the Secret Service not supposed to be privy to the President's more political strategizing.

"John?" James prompted as Chris twisted on the couch to look at him. 

"Forgive me, Mr. President, but I have no desire to go through anything like that again. I'd rather get beat up in a garage."

"John, you - "

"No," James interceded before Chris could say more. "John's my bodyguard, not a political asset. He's made it very plain that he doesn't want to be involved, and he's Secret Service. We're not going to try to politicize a federal agency."

"As you wish, Mr. President."

"But - " John started and stopped again. 

"John?" James prompted again. 

"It wasn't bad? What I said. I just got angry, sometimes I speak up when I shouldn't."

"It was perfect, John. I couldn't have scripted it better myself. Despite the amazing efforts he's made for world peace, the President's always had a problem with his racial identity and acceptance among certain portions of our population. Those people like you, they like your military background and your bluntness and your seeming disinterest in advancement. That you came out so strongly, admitting your friendship with the President, was received well."

John let his back sag against the wall and rubbed the heel of one hand on his forehead. Carol wasn't here to scold him for his lack of professional stance. "That's your way of saying racist fuckers like that I'm white."

Chris looked surprised, as if he hadn't realized he needed interpreting. "Yes."

"That makes them believe me. Our mutual skin color."

"Yes." Chris twisted back to face the President. "And they like that John seems dominant, not surprising given their overall attitudes."

John laughed, because really, could politics get any stranger? There was a reason John liked being the bodyguard and not usually having to talk about this nonsense. "They think I'm dominant? He's the president of the United States of America. He's the leader of the free world. I just spend my day following him around. I'm here to take a bullet, not figure out policy that impacts millions of people."

"Yes, but he tried to stop you talking and you didn't let him." Chris looked back and forth between the two of them in confusion. "Is there something I should know?"

"No," James said flatly. "Whatever gets the job done. I don't care what those people think about my relationship with John, as long as they support my policies or at least don't harass their congresspeople to actively oppose them."

"Mr. - "

"John."

John sighed and banged the back of his head against the wall. "Yes, Mr. President?"

"It's all fine, John."

"If you say so, Mr. President."

"I do."

Chris twisted again to look at John assessingly. "If you ever decide you want to explore options, I have a friend who represents celebrities. You'd be a shoo-in for reality shows and personal appearances. You seem like you'd be a natural for Dancing with the Stars."

"John has a job and he likes it," James said flatly. 

"Okay." Chris didn't seem inclined to argue, but something in his expression - John wondered if his friend was going to be added to the other voicemails and emails he'd ignored after the day of the White House attack. "Those hug pictures are all over the Internet. I can't do anything about that."

"That's fine. Is that all?"

"Yes, I just wanted to let you know that things are going well. People always like it when politicians support the military. You're getting a lot of credit for being at John's side in the hospital, and people like your friendship with him." 

"Good, thank you. If that's all, could you let Bailey know I don't want to be disturbed?"

The door closed behind Chris, and James walked over to John, bracing one forearm against the wall and cupping his face with one hand. "I hope you realize that you're far more important to me than a human shield." 

"Yeah. I mean, yes. We're friends."

"We're - something more than friends. Much more. I need you."

John covered James' hand with his own, turning it and kissing the palm. This was risky, but he liked it, liked James' confession, here and at the hospital. To be so important to someone so powerful was a rush. "I still shouldn't have let you get into this position," he responded, shame in his voice. "I never want to risk your presidency." 

"I'm a grown adult. I make my choices. You were the one who was hurt, and you still paid attention to the damn window." 

"Taking care of you is my job."

"John." James tilted his head, resting his forehead against John's. "I would tell you to stop going above and beyond the call of duty, but I like it." 

"I won't ever tell you to stop being a great president." 

"I'm going to try to never let you down." 

"And I'm going to keep protecting you, and being what you need." He placed one hand on James' chest, pushing him gently away. "With discretion." 

James didn't fight the push, backing up a few steps. "Just be here. That'll be enough." 

"I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere. And the texts?"

"Keep up the texts." 

"Okay." 

"You look - " James reached out, touched one side of John's face. "Say the stupid thing, the thing you know you shouldn't but you can't keep your mouth shut." His thumb caressed John's lower lip, like he'd coax the words out of his mouth. 

That instruction was easier to obey than it should be. No matter how many changes he'd made, how much he'd tried to become a mature, responsible person, he still had that stupid, reckless streak. His eyes strayed past James, waited until the other man glanced to see that John was looking at his desk, before turning back to give him a confused look. John's voice was rough as he said, "I'll protect you, even if it has to be against yourself. But on your last day, I'm going to get under that desk and blow you. It's going to be the best blow job I've ever given. I'm going to suck your dick and feel it in my throat and then I'm going to swallow your come. That's the stupid, unwise thing I want to say."

James froze, and didn't speak, but when John glanced down, his dick was tenting the front of his trousers.

"Don't tell me every president doesn't want that," John added. "From someone." 

"I want it from you." 

"You're going to have it. When it's safe."

"I'll be sure that you're in my schedule." The words were seemingly flippant, but James' eyes were serious. 

John nodded, giving him a shy smile. "I'll leave you to your work, Mr. President."

Walking toward the door, John listened to James' soft steps as he went back to his desk. Maybe he'd risk a blow job to celebrate when James won his second term. But for now, he'd focus on doing his job, protecting the President, and being what he needed. He glanced back, seeing James open his computer and turn his attention to his email. He had a country to run. 

John had a beer to drink, a game to find on the TV, and a promise to look forward to fulfilling. 

~ the end ~

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to Seaward for betaing!


End file.
